


Favorite Freak

by Thorinsmut



Series: Freaks and Lovers [1]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon typical drug use, Complete, Cuddling, Established Relationship, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Porn Without Plot, Romantic Gestures, Size Difference, Strap-Ons, crossdressing for fun, top!Hancock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,512
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23840452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thorinsmut/pseuds/Thorinsmut
Summary: It wouldn’t be diplomatic for the Mayor to claim any one of the freaks who called Goodneighbor ‘home’ his favorite. But Hancock was a shitty diplomat, and Nateexactlyhis kind of freak.
Relationships: John Hancock/Male Sole Survivor, John Hancock/Sole Survivor (Fallout)
Series: Freaks and Lovers [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1720159
Comments: 15
Kudos: 79





	Favorite Freak

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hobbitdragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbitdragon/gifts).



> For hobbitdragon and the prompt: _I would LOVE some Fallout fic! Maybe whatever FO4 companion you like best? (I’d love to see you write Hancock, for example)_
> 
> I had fun with it.
> 
> Also, please go read the great Hancock/Strong fic hobbitdragon has written for me!  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/24043999

.

John Hancock made himself into the man who turned Goodneighbor into the place where the freaks and misfits belonged. If they were all freaks together then maybe _nobody_ was one, or something like that. Everyone was family, in Goodneighbor—for a value of family that included a fair amount of violence.

It wouldn’t be diplomatic for the Mayor to claim any one of the freaks who called Goodneighbor ‘home’ his favorite. He didn’t look up from his computer when he heard the unmistakable tromp of power armor striding through town toward Bobby’s old squat, but he did smile. Nate of no claimed last name, in his tricked-out old world armor that the Brotherhood would cream themselves if they got to touch—if Nate had so much as the time of day for them. Bloody-smiled mercenary, sharp as a switchblade, but easy with his favors.

Nate was exactly the kind of freak to scale the front of the statehouse wearing nothing but a red dress with a hubflower clenched between his teeth. Then to lounge on the balcony singing soulfully (and very slightly off-key) until Hancock finally gave up on work to let him in.

He kissed Hancock in front of the crowd that had gathered to see the spectacle.

“What are you, a tomcat?” Hancock griped without heat as he chivvied Nate inside. “Yowling at the window.”

“Me-ow.” Nate caressed the slow syllables with his lips, absolutely indecent, as he tossed the hubflower aside and crowded back into Hancock’s space. Then deliciously, predictably, with more kisses and groping hands and laughing stumbling steps, they came to rest with Nate bent over the arm of the couch and Hancock’s lube-slicked fingers working into his ass.

The dress pooled around Nate’s armpits, and Hancock stroked his back and the muscles of his powerful thighs with the other hand. It wasn’t smooth skin, compared to anything but a ghoul’s. Nate was pocked and puckered with scar tissue, from injuries earned in both distant history and modern times, and dimpled with a healthy layer of old world fat. Hancock squeezed Nate’s ass, hard, and then gave in and smacked it to make it jiggle.

Nate clenched down on Hancock’s fingers with a moan, and then relaxed and loosened further. Hancock was almost jealous of how easy Nate took it. Hancock’s own flesh wasn’t that stretchy anymore. He was hard-pressed to take more than a finger or two, and even that dependent on the size of the fingers in question.

But then again, Hancock always _had_ preferred to top. Especially with a big man like Nate. He had to be seriously strong to use his power armor the way he did. His impressive physical strength showed in the rounded lines of his body. If you told Hancock that Nate was a pre-war supersoldier experiment gone right he’d believe it, and _Hancock_ had him bent over. So maybe it was a power-trip thing, and Hancock usually wasn’t about that kind of shit, but the heart wanted what it wanted. Or… the dick did.

Hancock tugged Nate back a bit by the hips and pushed his strap into the dark place between his thighs. The silicone dildo made friendly with Nate’s balls, and Nate tightened his legs to squeeze it in place, give Hancock something to grind against. It always took a little adjusting of the harness to get the pressure how he liked it between his legs. He groaned, hoarse and quiet, when he got it right. Nate grinned at him over his shoulder, eyes sparkling.

He’d take this, Nate would. He’d let Hancock get off with his strap between his legs and his fingers inside him, even though he couldn’t get off from it himself. He’d take whatever Hancock gave him, and make a pretty show of getting himself off afterward if Hancock asked him to, and just knowing that made Hancock feel generous. He grabbed for the open lube bottle on the back of the couch and added some more as he guided the head of the dildo to Nate’s entrance.

Nate moaned as Hancock fucked into him, rocking with every thrust.

“That feel all right?” Hancock asked, breathless already.

“Oh yeah,” Nate gasped. “Oooh, yeah!”

Hancock snarled, almost a feral sound, as he picked up the pace. Maybe it was seeing Nate let go so completely that let Hancock do the same. He was gorgeous beneath Hancock, responding beautifully to every motion like the places they touched were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Or maybe it was knowing that they were every bit as mean as each other. Even half-fucked, Nate could pull himself together and fight deadly in a heartbeat. Hancock knew the kind of hard life lessons that created hypervigilance like that. He’d lived it himself. If anything got past Fahrenheit downstairs, Hancock always had a switchblade within arms reach, and people didn’t get back up when Nate hit them.

They could trust each other to fight, if they had to, and so they could relax. They could just enjoy and not worry.

Hancock couldn’t always come from fucking with the strap, but luck or the particular cocktail of chems swimming in his blood at the moment was on his side. He could feel the tight unraveling of pleasure, pressure building. He chased it, working his hips in tight little circles. Nate moved beneath him, angling himself to get his own pleasure out of it.

“God… fuck,” Nate gasped, muscles twitching down his sweat-sheened back, thick thighs trembling against Hancock’s body. Hancock was leaned far forward over Nate now, bony fingers digging hard into Nate’s hips. Seeing him like that Hancock wanted to add his own mark to the tapestry of scars on Nate’s body, scratch bloody lines into his back with fingernails he didn’t even _have_ anymore.

When Nate bucked up, back bowed and his weight on his hands, Hancock shoved his face up under the edge of the red dress and bit down in the soft spot just beneath his shoulder blade. Nate whined, high and sharp. He was close, Hancock could tell. His ass clenched down on the dildo, giving more friction for Hancock to grind against. It was so so close to enough, and Hancock slid one hand down over the curve of Nate’s hip to his cock. It was hot and hard, wet at the head. Hancock knew his hand was too dry and rough, but Nate never had complained about that.

His whole body jolted beneath Hancock. He gasped in a huge breath, and then his arms gave out and he fell out of Hancock’s range again. Nate came biting the dusty cushions to muffle a scream. Hancock didn’t let up his grind for a second, chasing down his own orgasm. It was tantalizingly out of reach until suddenly it was _right there now_ and he jerked and shuddered his way through into the soft and heavy space beyond.

Hancock slumped over Nate, breathing hard, for long moments before he gathered himself enough to ease the dildo out of Nate. The strap unclipped easy, and Hancock let it lie where it fell. His flag sash was conveniently nearby. Hancock tucked it around his waist and was as decent as he could bother to get.

Nate, meanwhile had crawled all the way onto the couch. He tugged his dress down to cover himself. He snorted when he saw how Hancock was dressed, but reached for him with both hands. With an invitation like that, Hancock happily joined him. The couch wasn’t really sized for two people to lay on, if one of them was as big as Nate, but that just made it cozy.

They kissed, slow and lazy in the afterglow.

“Hey, handsome,” Nate murmured, because he was the kind of freak to call Hancock that and mean it completely sincerely. “You come here often?”

“Here?” Hancock asked faux-innocently, rucking up the bottom of the red dress to palm Nate’s ass. “Whenever I can get away with it.”

Nate chuckled, which had been the point. Hancock pawed around on the floor beside the couch and came up with a full inhaler of Jet. He took it in, as much as his lungs could hold. Nate gently pushed his hand away and sealed his lips to Hancock’s to breathe it in on the exhale. They laughed together in the haze of fumes, time stretched out like that… Hancock forgot the word. The candy. Taffy! Every bit as sweet.

It was Nate’s turn to grope around, then, and he found mentats. Grape, to cut the strong flavor of the jet. He put one carefully on the middle of his tongue, and they passed it back and forth between them in a messy kiss.

Hancock could see how the evening would play out, in a haze of chems and companionship. He couldn’t think of a better way for it to go.

No, it wasn’t diplomatic for the Mayor of Goodneighbor to have a favorite freak, but what the hell. Hancock had always been a shitty diplomat, anyway.

.

**Author's Note:**

> Reader’s choice if Hancock is trans, lost a few bits in the ghoulification process, or just prefers to use toys.
> 
> Comments are love!


End file.
